R. Salvatore - Echoes of the Fourth Magic

Across the way, Mitchell chomped hard on his biscuit.

“A whip-dragon is indeed a mighty foe,” the ranger agreed. “But more a test o’ courage than strength, for ye must charge the beast and no waiting. If ye let it use the whips, then tears to yer kin. But if ye get too close for the snap, the beast is for beating.”

“Of course, it’s a whole lot easier if the damned thing is already busy with five other people,” the captain remarked dryly.

“In troth,” Belexus replied with a condescending grin,

“ ’Tis easier when the beast is at peace, and not ready for a fight.”

Knowing that Mitchell was looking for trouble and would push this issue, Del shouted, “Time to go!” and jumped to his feet.

“Ayuh,” Belexus agreed, still smiling down at the captain. “Past the time, by me thinking.”

As they made ready to leave, Belexus pulled Del aside. “Me friend,” he said, “If e’er ye’re faced with battle, keep to me words: The greatest advantage of a true warrior is neither strength nor quickness, but courage. Courage keeps yer head clear so ye might remember yer strengths and pull the mask off yer opponent’s weaknesses.”

“That’s advice I’ll hold on to,” Del said as he mounted his horse. And remember it he did, much to his benefit in the days to come.

They set a leisurely pace in Avalon-no need or want to rush in this truly glorious wood. The trees stood tall and straight and the leafy ceiling layered thick, but unlike Blackemara, the forest of Avalon was not a gloomy place. It was full of clear flat paths to follow, with sunlight streaming in everywhere, flowing around leafy branches and warming the earth, and speckling the ground along the trail with the most interesting shadows. And, oh, the colors! Wildflowers of white, red, violet, gold, and every hue imaginable clustered at every turn, filling the air with their rich scents.

And the grass showed the deepest, truest green, primeval in its purity, as if it was the original conception of the color. All the greens of Del’s world seemed but cheap imitations of it.

This was a place for poets and lovers, an unblemished dreamscape of colors and aromas that stirred the senses to new levels of awareness. And it was a clean place; no ghouls lurked behind the trees of Avalon. Being here, Del felt that he better understood the rangers. Nurtured on the fruits of this perfection, a man could only grow strong and true. He was overwhelmed by the forest. Billy, he noted, was overwhelmed, too, but it seemed that Reinheiser had other things on his mind and hardly noticed their surroundings, and Mitchell held on stubbornly to his anger and his envy.

Wildlife abounded. Rabbits, squirrels, even an occasional deer or wild pig turned a curious eye as the party passed, and countless birds squawked and chattered in the branches like gossiping old ladies, spreading the word that strangers were about in the wood. One animal in particular caught Del’s eye, a large squirrel hopping along the branches, apparently following the party. Del had the strange feeling that this was the same squirrel he had seen in Blackemara, and he was more than a little curious about it.

He trotted his horse up beside Belexus. “That squirrel is following us.”

Mitchell closed in on the pair, tilting his ear in their direction.

“Hush about it,” Belexus whispered. “Pay it no heed.”

“But I saw that same squirrel in the swamp,” Del continued, copying the ranger’s respectful whisper.

“And I’ve seen too much of it!” Mitchell announced loudly.

Del gave a groan, for he had seen this before from the captain, and certainly understood the man’s motivations. Recognizing the ranger’s reverence for Avalon and her inhabitants, the captain now saw an opportunity to vent his seething frustration and truly outrage both Belexus and Andovar.

Mitchell slid from his horse and picked up a stone. “Where are you?” he yelled to the trees. As if in answer, the squirrel hopped to an open branch and cocked its head curiously.

Mitchell smiled wickedly. “Your ass is mine,” he growled, and raised his arm to throw.

“No!” Del screamed, every instinct within him revolted by such an act. He leaped from his mount and crashed in just as Mitchell brought his arm forward, and the stone skipped harmlessly wide of its mark. The infuriated captain regained his balance quickly, intent on pummeling Del, but Belexus and Andovar were already between them.

“By the Colonnae!” Belexus roared. “In troth ye be a fool to huv done such a thing! Avalon opens her arms wide to friends-” He stopped as Mitchell met his shock with a stare of open challenge-and how the ranger wanted to accept that challenge! Realizing he was bound otherwise, Belexus settled for a warning that came out unmistakably as a threat. “She welcomes friends, Mitchell, but keep me words, she destroys enemies!”

Together they turned to the squirrel. It sat motionless on the branch for a moment, taking in the scene, before it skipped away, disappearing into the shadows of the trees.

“At least the smelly rat’s gone.” Mitchell laughed.

“Swallow yer words!” Andovar shouted, his ire dashing all reason. Quicker than the ancient ones could follow, the ranger’s sword was out of its scabbard and the tip in at Mitchell’s throat. “Or defend yer crooked mouth with yer life!”

“Hold, Andovar,” Belexus ordered calmly. “By the Prophetics and our quest, ye huv no’ the right to do this.” Andovar paused a moment, weighing the consequences. He sheathed his sword grudgingly without releasing the captain from his penetrating glare.

“Ye huv chased away one animal,” Belexus said. “But the eyes o’ the wood are not few and sure to be watching even more closely now.”

Mitchell tried vainly to hide his terror at how easily Andovar could have killed him. He ignored the ominous stare of Belexus and turned to Del, a less formidable foe.

“I’ll remember this, DelGiudice,” he growled threateningly.

“Oh, so will I,” Del retorted in the same tone. “I’ll remember all of it.”

Mitchell gave an angry snort, obviously surprised that Del would again stand up to him so blatantly, and went back to his horse. But the mare would not let him near, and the other mounts shied away from him as well.

“Beasts of Avalon,” Andovar explained with a chuckle of deep satisfaction. “Ye’ll be walking.”

Mitchell did just that. He walked with his head held high in proud defiance of the wood, and he did not speak another word that day.

They all went on in silence throughout the afternoon, and soon enough the sheer beauty and wholesomeness of the wood had Del feeling happy again.

Such was the power of Avalon to heighten the awareness of friendly observers that they might recognize a harmony here that transcended the normal and took on almost magical proportions. The forest possessed a twofold beauty, both simple and profound: simple in the dances of the animals on the ground and in the trees above, in the constant flow of songs from countless birds, in the unified craning of a group of wildflowers seeking out the patches of sunlight that sifted in through the branches of towering oaks. And yet it was the deeper sense of order, the profound beauty of Avalon, that overwhelmed Del. The realization that every single being that lived and grew here belonged to a system that was delicate yet ever enduring, and so complete and balanced that it reflected the orderly perfection of the universal scheme.

He felt all of that, profoundly, and wanted desperately to be a part of it.

They made camp in a small glen as the sunset pinkened the sky behind them. The tops of several of the closer mountains remained visible to them, and once again the group was treated to the sparkling spectacle of the micariver fires on the Crystal Mountains.